Search Myself
by sunny-bear
Summary: Drabble in which Connor masturbates after a long day of training. That's about it. The title comes from Blondie's "Touch Myself" because I have no shame.


Connor stared up at his ceiling, biting his hand to stifle any noise he made. He hated this, he really did.

All the training Achilles gave him, all the ways to regulate his emotions, his breathing, his stance, all of it was useless when this… this _need_ washed over him. No matter how hard he tried, every once in a while, he had to excuse himself from training early, practically begging the old man to let him go. Faking sick, pretending to have terrible muscle strains, anything that got him out of that basement and into his room. Out of the forest, high up in the trees, into the freezing stream that ran under the old stone bridge. Anything to get this heat, this tension out of him.

He knew this was normal, that all people went through this when they were his age, but he still felt a brush of shame as he locked his door behind him. He never locked his door. wouldn't the old man be a little suspicious? A small whisper of guilt as he thought of all the training he would be missing. They were about to learn how to parry, he really needed to learn how to do that, those grenadiers could be vicious, you know? He needed to be safe from those axes and- oh, _goodness_. The hot breath of fear breathed down his neck, wondering if Achilles came up to check on him. Were those footsteps? Sounds from the kitchen downstairs could sometimes reach up here, the creaking of the floor could be heard in his room, the place was falling apart, after all, but that sounded _so_ close. He pulled off his boots, laying them by the door, letting out a small huff of air. Would Achilles be wary, and come up to see Connor? It was the second time he had left training this week. He was so so _so_ stupid. His pants came off next, he left those pooled around his ankles. The skins were old, but there wasn't any money for new garments, and he had always been terrible at mending clothes. Now was not the time to kick his pants half way across the room, what if the old man came in? The quick reflexes he had been honing could probably work well to yank up some pants quickly. He frowned slightly, feeling his face heat up. He was already considerably aroused. He hoped Achilles hadn't noticed, that would be extremely embarrassing, worse than the times he fell in front of Kanen'to:kon. And you can't really play off the current situation with a, "I meant to do that."

Connor looked around the room then, cursing himself in his mind. There was nothing to use that he could come into. He was stupid. He was going to have to use a blanket at this rate, either that, or do nothing at all. Connor was planning on doing something though, so it looks like he was going to have to use his blanket. He waddled over to his bed, his trousers pooled around his ankles restricting his movement a bit. He flopped down onto his bed, and wiggled underneath his covers. Then, if the old man walked in, he could easily feign sleep. Hopefully. He tugged off the rough, holey gloves from his hands, and rested them on his night stand.

Closing his calloused hand around his cock, Connor almost felt embarrassed by how good it felt, being so aroused. Almost.

He worked his hand slowly, painting a picture in his mind that aided the scene. He would be far too embarrassed to picture a real person in his little fantasy, so as usual, it was just someone faceless. He imagined pushing into them slowly, hearing a small, strangled sigh escape their lips at the weight of him that gradually pressed against them. He tightened his grip, moved his hand faster. Connor thrusted his hips forward, into his hand, and may have let out a small, strangled sigh of his own.

He tossed his head to the side and grunted softly into one of his pillows. He pictured himself thrusting in and out of someone soft, going at them from behind, thought of his hands grabbing onto their supple skin, their hips providing a good place to rest his roving hands. Their hands rested on the bed, keeping them propped up to take the brunt of Connor's thrusts. Connor's real hands were doing two separate things: one pumping away at his cock, the other playing with sensitive parts of his body. He ghosted his fingers over his nipples, tugged _hard_ on pieces of his hair.

At this point he was a mess, one of his hands moving quickly, quickly, quicker, the other stuffed in his mouth because the noises he was making were getting a bit too loud for his tastes. He hated this. He hated this, but he loved it as well, because however embarrassing the situation was, it felt _so good_.

And then with a moan, and a name on his lips, he came over his fingers and onto his blankets. Maybe he hadn't been thinking of a nameless person. Connor blinked up at the ceiling, wiped his hand on his leg, and sat up. He needed to get back to Achilles.

A/N: Wow, I just sort of squeezed this out. I haven't written porn in a while :^ o Sorry it's so short.

This is the first thing I've written for Assassin's Creed, so please be gentle with me. Also, its up to you to determine who Connor was thinking about, huehuehue.

It would be cool if you left a review and told me how I did! Thanks for reading!


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